


Memory of Darkest Night

by naughty_sock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Defiant Victim, Dreamsharing Leaves Physical Evidence of Rape After Waking Up, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Held Down, Rape to Steal Life Energy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughty_sock/pseuds/naughty_sock
Summary: “You don't sound surprised to see me,” Tom said, a mocking smile on his face.“I'm not. You're always here.”
Relationships: Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 82
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	Memory of Darkest Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enisy/gifts).



The world tilted.

Ginny opened her eyes to columns of lichen-covered stone and a ceiling so high that it lost itself in darkness.

She heard water dripping in the distance, the sound echoing hollowly through the vast space that opened up around her as details in the stonework slowly swam into focus.

She was back in the Chamber of Secrets.

Her chest tightened with the realization, but when she tried to sit up, she found that she could do little more than lift her head.

Though she couldn't see anything restraining her, she felt weighed down as if someone had poured lead into her veins turning even the twitch of a finger into a herculean task.

Ginny huffed with the effort before she gave up and let her head sink back onto the cold stone floor.

“Don't panic,” she said out loud as she fought her rising panic. “You're just dreaming. Nothing here can hurt you.”

It was encouraging that her voice sounded confident. More confident than she felt, if she was honest, but, over time, she had devised her owns strategies to break free of her nightmares. Reminding herself that she was dreaming was the easiest way to wake up. And she needed to wake up because the longer she stayed asleep, the more her mind would get entangled in the dream. It had always been that way.

“Well, I did not expect this,” a familiar voice said to her right.

Turning her head, Ginny watched the apparition of Tom Riddle step out from behind one of the gray columns. He looked äas she remembered him. A handsome boy of sixteen years, with a soft mouth, dark, tussled hair, and eyes that appeared bottomless. Back in her second year at Hogwarts, she'd only gotten a glimpse of him before she'd lost consciousness, but the memory of him stepping out of his diary was burned into her brain – a horrifying picture she would never forget.

“Hello, Tom,” she said through gritted teeth.

His expression reflected amusement.

“You don't sound surprised to see me.”

“I'm not. You're always here.”

He seemed to consider this statement for a moment before he stepped towards her with a knowing smile. “I see. And what do we do when we meet here?”

Ginny ground her molars so hard that she wouldn't have been surprised to hear them crack.

His tone made it sound so casual, as if showing up in her nightmares was a perfectly normal thing for him to do. ( _It probably is_ , she thought bitterly. She could just imagine how pleased he'd be to know how many people regularly woke up in a cold seat because of him.)

The look he gave her was predatory; a snake waiting to strike.

She couldn't hold his gaze. Her throat was already closing up, and she could feel a pressure inside her chest that had nothing to do with whatever power was holding her down. 

She was afraid of him. Even knowing that he was dead couldn't erase the power he had over her mind.

She'd never been able to shake off the fear this place evoked in her, had never been able to escape the cold dread racing through her body when she thought of the disdain on Tom's face when he'd looked down at her failing body, letting her know how completely, how absolutely, he had played her, how he had used pieces of her soul to give himself shape and breath and life.

Over the years, she'd realized that the part about which she felt worst was not that she'd almost died because of his machinations but about how foolish she had been.

She'd looked at him as a friend. She'd trusted him with her fears, her worries, her dreams, and her secrets, and he had fed off them, leeched off the very soul she'd put into their friendship. She'd felt safe with him, understood in a way that she never had in a house full of six older siblings who commanded attention.

To this day, thinking about how utterly he'd betrayed her trust made her feel small in a way no defeat or embarrassing episode of her teenage years had done.

“Not going to answer me?” Tom asked with a cruel smile. “I always wondered how it must feel to have your throat close up in fear. I never experienced it myself.”

He crouched down next to her, bouncing once on the balls of his feet as he sought balance. He looked at her as if she was a curious insect, pinned under a magnifying glass, about to be dissected.

 _You're not a child anymore_ , Ginny reminded herself. _You don't have to lie here quivering like the stupid little girl you were. You can wake up. All you have to do is open your eyes, and you'll be back in your dormitory where you fell as-_

A frown knitted her brows together and she was momentarily distracted by the realization that she didn't remember going to bed.

 _But I must have_ , she told herself uncertainly. _How else could I be dreaming?_

While Tom poked her side with one of his long fingers, a look of expectation on his face, she struggled to remember.

_I was talking to Colin Creevey at breakfast. He was excited about the Quidditch game, and I was so nervous that I couldn't stand to eat anything._

It had been the last match of the year, and Griffindor would have had to beat Slytherin if they still wanted to win the Quidditch Cup.

_Maybe I got hit by a Bludger? Maybe I'm not asleep but unconscious?_

Fine. It didn't matter if she woke up in her dormitory or the hospital wing. The important part was that she needed to wake up and escape Tom's poking fingers.

“What are you doing?” she gasped when she felt his hand slide across her stomach.

He ignored her question and hooked his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. “Did you ever wonder what happened to me after Harry destroyed my diary?”

Ginny tried to flinch away from his revolting touch, but even though the weighted feeling was slowly draining from her limbs, they were slow to respond.

“You vanished,” she snapped as she managed to lift her hand and wrap her fingers weakly around his wrist. “The basilisk's venom destroyed you.”

She shouldn't be arguing with him. Tom was gone, destroyed twice over, and interacting with him would only trick her mind into making him more real than he was.

“Not all of me.”

The words were spoken so softly and with such reverence that Ginny almost didn't hear them. A soft look of wonder passed over Tom's face as he pushed up her shirt and splayed his fingers against her skin.

“So warm,” he whispered. “I can feel the warmth bleeding off you. You can't imagine what it's like to be stuck in this place, neither dead nor alive. The cold is so severe it makes you numb to everything else.”

A hot stab of anger tore through her. Did he expect her to feel sympathy for him? “That's no better than you deserve.”

She tried to pull his hand off her but couldn't exert enough pressure to move it. The lethargy had almost faded but she felt weak, almost as if Tom's touch was enough to drain her energy, whereas it had merely been caged before.

“I never thought that I would miss it,” he continued as if he hadn't heard her, and to her horror, his hand slid up her stomach in a languid caress until his fingertips brushed the underside of her breasts.

A small sound escaped her throat and Tom's gaze darted up to her face.

His expression was indecipherable, and Ginny found herself trapped beneath the intensity of his stare.

Slowly, deliberately, his hand covered one of her small breasts. His eyelashes fluttered and he hissed softly.

On the inside, she felt like dying. This was new. None of her nightmares had ever taken a turn in this direction. They were all about Tom draining her, of him snearing down at her while she faded away, of the basilisk killing Harry, leaving Tom to rise from the Chamber of Secrets healthy and powerful as he had been once before.

“Stop that,” she said feebly as she tried to roll over.

“I like the way you feel.”

Ginny flushed scarlet when his hand tightened around her breasts and two fingers idly circled her nipple through the fabric of her bra.

_Not real. This is not real. You're just having a really fucked up dream._

“Silly little witch,” Tom said, his voice turning oily. “How long will it take you to catch on this time?”

“You're not real,” she yelled at him. “You're not real, and I'm going to wake up now. You can't stop me. You're dead. You can't hurt anyone anymore.”

She gathered all her strength, every shred of conviction she could find, and wrenched her arm back.

She was almost as surprised as Tom when she managed to lift his hand off her.

The light dimmed even more, losing its greenish tint as the shadows engulfed Tom's form. His face grew blurry, but not fast enough that she couldn't see the surprise on his face shift to consideration.

“This might turn into a more interesting game than I anticipated,” he said, his voice fading into nothingness on the last few words.

Ginny gasped and set up. She could move freely again, and the light became so blindingly bright, she had to cover her eyes. She felt lightheaded as she curled her head towards her knees, the motion rustling the bed sheet that covered her from the waist down.

Sucking in shallow, ragged breaths, she finally lifted her head and recognized the vaulted ceiling and high, leaded windows of the hospital wing.

Across the room, a door opened and a witch in a white apron and cap appeared. She looked surprised.

“Oh, I didn't think you'd come around this quickly.”

“What happened to me?” Ginny frowned up at the tall woman. “And who are you?”

The woman halted in her steps, apparently taken aback by the bluntness of her question. But within a second she had composed herself and waved Ginny's question away with an indulgent smile. “I am Madam Atropa. I'm filling in for Poppy - sorry, that's Madam Pomfrey to you - while she's looking after her mother.

“Now, as to what happened to you, I was rather hoping _you'd_ be able to tell me. I was told that you fell off your broom during the Quidditch match.” She bustled over to Ginny's bedside table and waved her wand over an empty goblet. A steaming liquid wooshed out of its end, and the scent of lilac and apple blossoms filled Ginny's nose.

Ginny shifted uneasily. She felt uncomfortably hot underneath the blanket and cast it aside. Pulling her knees up, she was mortified to realize that Tom's touch had followed her into the waking world. Her underwear felt sticky against her cunt. 

Mortification warming her cheeks, she pressed her thighs together, then quickly relaxed her muscles when her clit throbbed beneath the pressure.

_What the hell happened to me?_

“I don't remember falling,” she said with mounting distress. “I barely even remember being on my broom.”

“Mmh,” Madam Atropa stirred the potion in the goblet three times in a clockwise manner, then reversed the motion to stir counterclockwise until the liquid had turned into a solid gold color. “Well, whatever it was, you were lucky that one of the Slytherin Chasers caught you before you hit the ground.”

She extracted a small vial from her apron. It was filled with a misty, silvery substance, which Madam Atropa upended into the goblet. For a moment, the liquid turned jet black and smoke rose from its surface, but another quick stir from her wand returned it to a lighter golden color that was intertwined with wisps of silver.

Ginny wasn't sure how she felt about owing a Slytherin for her rescue. She was half-convinced that they'd been the cause of her fall in the first place. Maybe someone had put a hex on her? Perhaps even the same person who had caught her, and her rescue had simply been a means for them to divert suspicion? She wouldn't put it beyond any of the players on the Slytherin's Quidditch team; they were all brutes, each and every one of them. In this regard, not much had changed since the end of the war.

“Here, drink this. You'll be right as rain after a good night's sleep.”

“How do you know, when you can't even tell me why I fell?” The question had been out of her mouth before she was able to stop herself, and she wasn't even sure why she was being rude. Her only excuse was that the dream about Tom had shaken her more than she liked to admit.

Judging from Madam Atropa's stern expression, she was decidedly unimpressed with Ginny's attitude.

“I checked you over for curses, jinxes, and poisons, dear. To an extend that I have never done to any student before, but Professor McGonagall insisted. In my professional opinion, there is nothing wrong with you. A bit too much excitement and too much sun are what happened if you ask me. Now, be a dear and drink up. I 'm already late for a staff meeting.”

Ginny bit back the words that had been forming on her tongue. She wished Madam Pomfrey was back. Not only because Ginny trusted her, but because even as snappish as Madam Pomfrey could get, her bedside manner was still worlds more reassuring than that of her substitute.

Too much sun and excitement. Really? Madam Atropa made it sound as if Ginny was fragile, which only added to her resentment, especially with her nightmare still lingering in the back of her mind. She wasn't weak, and she wasn't a scared, foolish, twelve-year-old anymore, and Tom Riddle could go die in a fire.

Still, it was reassuring that Professor McGonagall had looked after her. And she was feeling much better now. Her heartbeat had slowed down, and safe for the uncomfortable wetness between her legs and the embarrassment resulting from it, she felt fine. A little weak in the knees perhaps, but she'd rather bite her tongue than admit it.

“I don't think I'll need that,” she said with a note of defiance in her voice. “I'll just head back to Gryffindor tower and sleep in my own bed.”

Not waiting for a response, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, jumped off, and crumbled to the ground.

Madame Atropa rolled her eyes. She muttered something under her breath as she set the goblet aside and helped her up. Her voice was cast too low to understand her, but Ginny was fairly sure she heard the words “stubborn” and “foolish girl.”

It was how Tom had addressed her, and even though the nurse's voice held no more than faint exasperation, inside her head, she heard the words repeated in a voice that made her feel as if she was no more than dirt beneath the heel of Tom's boot. It was then that she decided that she didn't like Madam Atropa, and she didn't care if that was being unfair or not.

“Come here, let's get you tugged in.”

The nurse settled her back on the mattress and proffered the goblet once more. “Look at it this way, the sooner you drink it, the sooner I'll be out of your hair.”

Ginny took the goblet with an air of grudging acceptance. The liquid tasted like nothing, and even more weirdly it felt like nothing on her tongue either, as if it dissolved the moment it touched her lips rather than run down her throat.

She felt drowsy by the time she'd emptied the goblet and sank back into the cushions with a sigh. Warmth spread through her body, and she felt her pulse throb once, hard, between her legs. She jerked with surprise.

“Something the matter, dear?” Madam Atropa frowned down at her, her gaze darting to her twitching legs.

“No,” Ginny mumbled hastily. “I just feel warm.” She started tearing at her shirt. “Too warm.”

“It'll pass in a moment, dear. You just go to sleep now.” She pulled up a chair and sat down next to Ginny her expression expectant.

Something was wrong. Her mind turned sluggish, and it took an endless moment to focus. Within seconds, her skin was sweat-slicked and overheated and a low pulsing had settled between her legs that had no business being there.

“Didn't you say you-- you had a staff meeting?” Ginny asked, appalled at how slurred the words tumbled out of her mouth.

Madame Atropa smiled. “It can wait. I'll just sit here in case you need a third dose.”

“Third?”

“Well, to be honest, I thought the first would have been enough, but you're stronger than I thought. Got away from him, did you? Bet he's not pleased about that. But the second one should do the trick. Can't imagine you shaking that one off, but just in case, dear... just in case. I'll stay here and make sure.”

Ginny fumbled for her wand. Her limbs were feeling as if they'd been weighed down again, and the horrible realization dawned that she had, after all, been a very foolish girl again. Too trusting. Too stupid. “What have you done to me?”

She thought the words, but her mouth didn't form them. The light around her dimmed, and she could hear water dripping over stone once more, a quiet echo in the distance.

 _No_ , she thought weakly, as Madame Atropa's smiling face faded away.

Her fingertips brushed against the wand in her pocket, she clenched them around the wood...

...and felt the texture of cool, worn stones beneath her palm.

The sound of dripping water grew louder until she was sure it existed not inside the Chamber of Secrets but inside her very skull, reverberating off the prison of bone that held it captive.

She struggled for breath, and when her lungs finally expanded and oxygen rushed into her blood, she opened her eyes to the sight of Tom Riddle looking down at her again.

“Well, hello there,” he crooned with a mocking smile. “Back so soon?” His hand squeezed her breast again. It was as if she'd never left. “Couldn't stay away, could you? How sweet.”

Ginny's insides were churning with shame. She'd let it happen again. She'd let someone hoodwink her, had let them take her for a fool. She _was_ a fool. A silly, foolish girl. Why had she drunk the potion? After everything that had happened, how could she trust a virtual stranger with her body and soul just because they wore a uniform and worked at Hogwarts?

She turned her head away, unwilling to let Tom see the tears that burned in the corners of her eyes. But, as before, she couldn't move, and her tears trickled down her temples into her long, red hair.

“Oh, don't feel too bad, little witch. If it's any consolation, you won't suffer for long.” He stopped and smirked, his dark eyes lighting up as if he'd thought of a particularly clever joke. “In fact, you won't suffer much at all. Who knows, you might even enjoy it a little.”

She wasn't going to ask. What was the point? He had too much fun gloating already.

“Not even a little bit curious?” he asked her after a while. That damn smirk was still on his lips.

His fingers pulled lazily at her nipple and Ginny felt an answering tug low in her abdomen. If she could have moved, she would have squirmed.

“Don't you want to know, how I ended up here?”

“I figure you're so in love with the sound of your own voice that you'll tell me either way,” she gritted out through clenched teeth, hating how much her voice quavered.

There had to be a way out of here. She'd managed to wake up the first time, hadn't she? She'd found a way to beat the effects of the potion. Maybe she could do it again.

Tom suddenly pinched her nipple hard enough to make her cry out in pain. The smirk had vanished from his face. Oh, he definitely hadn't liked that dig.

 _Good_ , Ginny thought viciously. Displeasing him might earn her punishment, but it also felt like a victory.

“Not defeated, yet, I see. Well, let's see what it takes to break you once and for all, you silly girl.”

Her clothes vanished with a flick of his wand, and as mortified as she felt, the cool stone was a balm against her heated skin.

Tom stared down at her, his gaze raking over every inch of her body, from the way her red hair fanned across the floor, down to her small breasts and perked nipples, past the triangle of red hair that covered her cunt, all the way down to her toes.

“Almost pretty,” he finally said with a dismissive air. 

Weirdly, his barely veiled insult almost made her feel better. It was no less than she would expect from him, and instead of cutting her as he had no doubt intended, it made her realize how petty his nature truly was. 

Pettiness being a thoroughly human quality, it somehow made him less scary and more pathetic in her eyes. Though, regrettably, not any less dangerous.

Tom knelt beside her again and trailed his wand along her skin. Ginny shivered where the tip touched her. She expected pain, or at least for the wand to cut into her, but instead, he merely seemed content to tease her with the threat of what he could do to her.

Once he reached her stomach, he placed the wand on top of it and let his fingers take over, brushing them through her curls and slipping them between her legs.

Even though she knew that it was futile, Ginny tried to press her thighs together and deny him access, but he had little trouble nudging them apart instead. Everything inside her tensed when his fingers parted her inner lips and circled her hole.

“Aren't you ashamed of yourself?” he wondered. “To be so wet for your sworn enemy. You're dripping all over the floor.”

Oh, the shame hit her hard, even as she cursed him silently to the end of the universe.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she closed her eyes wishing she could escape his perverted exploration of her body. But closing her eyes only made it worse. With the distraction of sight removed, her senses sharpened and she became hyper-aware of the soft, wet sound his fingers made as he slid them into her body. The friction of them against her inside walls was at once revolting and stimulating, and Ginny hated her body for bending to both him and the potion she had naively ingested.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally blurted out just to drown out the sound of his violation.

"That is the kind of knowledge that needs to be earned. But perhaps you will figure it out on your own. Not that it will save you."

Ginny heard the rustle of fabric and her eyes flew open to watch Tom settle between her legs.

She wanted to scream, to fight him off, to grab the wand that still rested on top of her stomach and kill him. For once, she thought, she'd have the conviction to cast Avada Kedavra and mean it.

Oblivious to her thoughts, Tom pushed her knees up and she had only a moment to see the rigid length of his cock before he sank into her, his weight pressing against her thighs and his balls coming to rest against the curve of her ass.

Despite her best effort to deny him the satisfaction, a whimper escaped her throat as his girth stretched her tender cunt.

Tom smiled and closed his eyes briefly, enjoying her misery with a pleased groan.

"I was never one to indulge much in the pleasures of the flesh," he grunted as he withdrew his hips only to thrust back into her.

Ginny couldn't stop her muscles from clenching around him. It was awful to feel him inside her, and more tears trickled into her hair.

"I wish I knew if my opinion about it changed as I grew older. I'll have to ask Avery once I am free of this prison."

"Avery?" She asked tremulously. She felt her body respond with more warmth and slickness to the drag of his cock against her inner walls. Her hands clenched into fists.

"Malfoy gave him my diary," Tom hissed as he thrust into her body, chasing his pleasure. "His sister is very skilled at Legilimency and loyal to me. It took her years to extract what remained of my memories and store them inside a Pensive."

With a jolt, Ginny remembered the wispy substance in Madam Atropa's vial. She'd only seen a pensive once before and only briefly, but she should have remembered. She should have realized…

… _realized that you were drinking the memories of Voldemort's younger self?_ a voice in the back of her mind snapped. Why _should you have suspected that?_

Tom's hips were speeding up. She needed to think. Was this just a game to him? Was raping her merely something he did for his entertainment, to humiliate and debase her? Or was there another reason for it?

She'd drank his memories. They were inside her. But he was still a prisoner, so his goal would be to... what? Get out? To possess her fully and rise to power wearing her body? She couldn't let it happen. She had to stop him.

"You're awfully distracted." The sharpness in his voice brought her back to the here and now. His movements had slowed so she felt every inch of him withdrawing from her cunt and sinking back in, and there was a cinched look of displeasure on his handsome face.

He obviously wasn't happy that her mind had wandered.

"We can't have that."

He placed his fingers against her clit and started teasing it in tandem with his thrusts.

Ginny swallowed hard. The muscles in her thighs and abdomen clenched, then trembled and a renewed wave of warmth flooded her.

He wanted her to come. It was important. But why? Her fingernails pressed into her palms hard enough for it to hurt. His thrusts dislodged the wand on her stomach and it clattered to the ground next to her hand. If only she could grab it.

The last time he had possessed her, he had fed off her emotions to gain strength. Her fears, her unrequited crush, her trust; she had poured all her feelings into his diary. Was this the same? Did her heightened emotions give him power?

 _He is a memory_ , she reminded herself. _How do I fight a memory?_

And then it dawned on her. _How do I fight a memory with magic?_

Her body jerked and she felt her climax approaching. 

_I have to stop him. I have to stop him now._

But it was too late. A wave of unwanted pleasure swept her away as Tom's fingers brought her to orgasm. She gasped as her body clenched tightly around his cock.

"That's it, good girl," he panted. He jerked, hard, groaned, and spilled himself inside her.

When he collapsed on top of her, Ginny instinctively raised her hands to push him off.

Her palms connected with the smooth fabric of his robes.

She could move.

With a hoarse cry, she shoved him away from her and rolled to the side.

Tom laughed. "Too late. You're too late, silly girl." 

His body started to fade and the expression on his face was full of glee.

Ignoring the ache between her thighs, Ginny threw herself towards Tom's wand and pointed it at his fading body.

" _Obliviate_ ," she shouted desperately. 

Tom's face transformed into an expression of dismayed surprise. The spell hit him squarely in the chest, a stream of red sparks that seemed to sink into his body.

From one moment to the next, his form disintegrated, starting in the center of his chest as if he was made of sand. It was over within seconds.

Panting, Ginny stood and looked down at the space where Tom had lain moments ago. She knew that she wore the same sneer on her face that he had once bestowed on her so long ago.

"Right," she said out loud, her voice echoing off the cavern walls. She didn't feel any triumph. She just felt numb. And she definitely didn't want to think about what he had done to her. Instead, she focused on the task ahead, namely Avery's sister.

"I'm going to wake up now."

And she did.

She sat up in the hospital wing. A dull ache pulsed between her legs, and her underware was drenched so thoroughly that her own arousal could not have accounted for it.

 _Don't think about it_.

Her fingers closed around her wand.

Madam Atropa straightened in her chair, her face eager. "Master?" she asked breathlessly.

Ginny met her adoring gaze with a grim smile. "Sorry to disappoint you."


End file.
